Kingdom of the Little People: Finding Happiness in a Miniature World

Follow me as I visit the Kingdom of the Little People, a controversial place in Yunnan, that challenges common stereotypes about entertainment, society, and human resilience.

Tucked away in the lush hills of Xishan, in Kunming, the capital of Yunnan Province, lies one of the most unique places you’ll ever hear about: the Kingdom of the Little People, a park where over 90 people who are affected by dwarfism live and work in what is, for all intents and purposes, a big amusement park.

You might have heard some stories about this park, where small people perform daily in front of an audience primarily made up of kids and their parents. But what lies beyond the surface-level spectacle? What is it like to be part of that community? Are the people working there actually ok with being a de facto spectacle?

That’s what I set out to discover. I went there trying to forget what I read or saw in sensationalized headlines, headlines written mainly by people who have never set foot in China, let alone in this place, and have no idea about the challenges of being a small person in that part of the world.

In this reportage, I will try to tell the real stories and experiences of the people who live and work in the Kingdom daily. Their stories challenged my assumptions and forced me to rethink my views on disability, exploitation, and the pursuit of happiness. So, buckle up and get ready for a journey that’s equal parts eye-opening and heartwarming. Because when it comes to the Kingdom of the Little People, things are never quite what they seem.

Song Song(松松) and Anzi(安子): finding love in the park

Song Song‘s eyes sparkle as she recounts her first meeting with Anzi. It was 2013, right inside the park.

“We were both new performers,” she recalls, a shy smile gracing her lips. “We connected quickly, maybe because we understood each other’s struggles.” Anzi nods in agreement. “Life outside the park can be isolating,” he explains. “People stare, sometimes even make rude comments. But here, we’re surrounded by people who share similar experiences. It makes it easier to accept who you are.”

Song Song initially arrived with her parents, their trepidation palpable. Coming from a distant town, the parents worried about the unknown. But upon seeing the park, their anxieties melted away. Here, their daughter wouldn’t be ostracized.

Love blossomed between Song Song and Anzi (who was born in Shaanxi), culminating in a joyful wedding ceremony in 2015. However, their dreams are tempered by reality. When asked about their vision for the future, Anzi’s voice softens. “The most important thing,” he says, “is to have someone by your side, someone to grow old with and take care of each other. It’s hard to find that outside the park.”

Song Song echoes his sentiment, with a bit of sadness in her eyes. “I never blamed my parents for my health issues”, she says. “I’m grateful for my life and for what I have. Finding a partner who understands you is a true blessing.”

Their decision not to have children is a heart-wrenching one, born out of love and concern. “We don’t want our children to suffer the same challenges”, Song Song explains. “We wouldn’t have the physical strength to take care of them, like, for example, holding them in our arms for a long time. Besides that, they wouldn’t be as strong as us, and the world can be a harsh place.”

Yet, amidst the challenges, they seem happy: “We feel lucky to have a real job here,” Anzi says, his voice firm. “I often think about how lucky I am, since I can earn some money, I have a partner, and there are people in the world with more severe health issues.”

Finding Comfort in the Crowd: Chao Chao’s Story (超超)

Sunshine fills the small Hobbit-burrow-shaped makeup room, warming everyone getting ready for the next show. Laughter and talking mix as performers, put on their makeup. Here, in this busy space, 19-year-old Chao Chao sits on a stool. He smiles a little shyly, his big glasses perched on his small nose.

Even though he performs every day in the park and has a background as a performance artist, Chao Chao is still quite shy. He seems even more uncomfortable when I point my camera at him. Maybe he has never talked to a foreigner before; there aren’t that many who visit this park after all.

Chao Chao’s journey to the Kingdom of the Little People was, like most of his friends, born out of solitude. Coming from the frigid plains of Dongbei in North East China, a far cry from the sun-drenched hills of Kunming, he had always felt like an outsider. “Before coming here,” he confided in a hushed voice, “I thought I was the only one.”

Making Connections: Little Apple’s Story (小苹果)

Xiaopinguo isn’t shy at all. Unlike Chao Chao, she chats happily with her friends as they sit in the makeup room.

“Before the park,” she confides, “life was boring. I didn’t even finish high school.” Every day held the same monotonous routine, punctuated by the sting of mockery. Finding a boyfriend seemed like a distant dream, and she didn’t even like her previous job: painting nails.

But the Kingdom of the Little People offered a way out. Every day is filled with new faces, a stark contrast to the isolation she once felt.

Embracing Life: Qige’s Story (七哥)

Life unfolded in unexpected ways for Qige, a 40-year-old man who, at 80cm, is the shortest person in the park. Married to a woman of average height, they had a daughter together.

“My daughter is 160cm tall!” Qige proudly remarked. “I don’t really like to talk much about my ex-wife” – they divorced a few years back – “but I’m so happy that my daughter decided to stay with me. Even if now she’s grown up, we are still very close”.

Incredibly enough, for a person with such a challenging life, he recently found love again, this time with a woman of short stature inside the park.

As I can see his physical discomfort in standing up for more than a few minutes, I cut short the interview. Right before we say goodbye, he tells me: “Remember to be yourself and be confident…”

I end my day trip to the park with a visit to the dormitories, where about 90 employees spend most of their free time. I get invited by Ceng Ceng (曾曾) and Xiao Pang (小胖), a lovely couple who also met inside the park. Ceng Ceng is from Henan, and her husband Xiao Pang (which means chubby) was born in Hebei. She just finished making dumplings in their tiny kitchen, and I can’t wait to try them: they look delicious!

As I see them doing daily chores, I start to understand what it means to live such a challenging life. Even the most normal things, such as cooking or holding some chopsticks, can become a daunting task. Yet, they all smile, joke, and seem to have found happiness and a relatively normal life in this community.

Don’t get me wrong: this is by far not a perfect place, and I’m sure there are many issues that are not talked about for several reasons, yet my own experience challenged my preconceived ideas, and I’d be lying if I said that I had a negative experience in the park.

Regardless of what you think about this place, remember that the reality of where it’s located is probably wildly different from the country where you live.

The Kingdom of the Little People offers a sanctuary, a place where difference is celebrated, not ostracized. Yet, it’s a sanctuary with walls. Whether these walls empower or confine is not up to me to decide.

A big thank you to Giuseppe from Project Happiness, with whom I visited the park.

Don’t forget to download a VPN before coming to China. If you prefer an eSIM, I recommend this one. If you are looking for some other ideas for your Yunnan itinerary, check out this page.

If you are interested in reading similar stories, check out my previous articles, where I talked about the last Dulong women with face tattoos and the last women in China with bound feet.